


Pinky-Promise Kisses

by soloday



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, like it ends with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soloday/pseuds/soloday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a secret relationship is killing Soonyoung. Getting Soonyoung to control himself in public is what's killing Jihoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by (based off of?) once more to see you by mitski, which is a lovely song that you can listen to [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6_ct5vMJdk)
> 
> trigger warning: homophobia is heavily referenced. please read at your own discretion

Our manager rolls up the windows, and in an instant, the ear-splitting screams are muffled, reduced from a painful, throbbing headache-inducer to an annoyance. I hear a sigh of relief from one of us. Subsequently, a snicker.

Whoever's in the front passenger seat- Jeonghan, probably, he always hogs the aux cord- plays some more bubblegum pop, as if some of the.. interesting contributions to that music show weren't enough for our daily dose. I mean, I know this is biased,but I still find myself preferring what Jihoon churns out from his studio over any other sound, music or not, in the world.

Speaking of Jihoon... My Jihoon...

My seat behind the driver's makes a convenient place to sneak glances into the rearview mirror if need be. and I'd like more than just a quick glance of a certain someone right now...

Eyes closed, head resting against the window, the chatter of the other members tuned out with a pair of earphones. Like always. The sun hangs low in the sky, bursting in between tree branches and leaves, leaving patterns of light flickering on his neck as we drive past. The sight of it all makes me subconsciously separate my lips, as my eyes are fixated upon his own parted lips. Soft and inviting. And my mind wanders to places not unknown, but yet to be explored to the extent that I'd like. If only I could. If only I could crawl into that backseat and attach my mouth to his exposed neck and-

I snap out of my trance when my blank stare in the mirror meets Wonwoo's questioning eyes. Fuck. Averting my gaze elsewhere, I shift awkwardly in my seat and attempt not to erase my thoughts in their entirety, but to tuck them into a different corner of my mind. Save them for later, if I may.

But I can't keep them in that corner. I'm attacked with images of how his milky skin looks when littered with marks (courtesy of myself), and how quickly his face flushes around me, and how much I want him, and how much I need him, and...

Out of frustration I turn to the window and blankly watch the storefronts and walking people scroll by. I just wish our dorm was closer, or that this car could go faster. Then, I could have him all to myself sooner. Alone, with me.

Because really, there's no other option, is there?

We're idols, and of the same sex. We have reputations. We have "images" to preserve, and prepubescent fans to pander to. We have to be cautious, even amongst our fellow members. Who's to say we won't be alienated if they ever figure it out? And what defines the line between acceptable, fanservicing skinship, and a tarnished image, anyway? Besides, the public goes berserk over straight idol couples already. I let out a small chuckle, imagining the Instiz headlines. Then, I imagine the plummeting sales and diminishing fanbase, and suddenly it's not that amusing anymore.

"Ey, hyung, are you okay? What's wrong?"

I guess Channie's noticed my distraught expression. I flash a reassuring smile and say, "It's nothing, don't worry about it! I'm just tired. I'll be fine once we get home."

He's not convinced, but he decides not to push it any further. I like that about him. He's really good at reading body language, I've noticed. I wonder if I could trust him with what burdens me most at the moment. I turn to look at him again, and he looks more youthful and innocent than ever that it almost hurts my heart to even be sitting next to him. The poor kid looks up to me! What would he do if he found out his role model is... is...

"Why are you looking at me like that? Snap out of it, hyung!"

I'm taken aback by how loud that outburst was, and it probably shows, because next thing I know, he's apologizing profusely and I feel Jihoon's stare burning two eye-shaped holes into me. After a momentary pause in conversation, the rest of the boys resume their chatter. I roll my head again towards the other direction. The last thing I see before my eyes flutter shut is the airplane in the sky I've been watching, and in the moment of lucidity between awake and asleep, I make the decision not to tell anything to Chan. Or anyone, for that matter.

-

It's Jihoon who shakes me awake and unbuckles my seatbelt. His face is so goddamn close to my face, and I can hear him breathing, and I've been aching for him since even before tackling today's schedule, and I sleepily mumble "Jihoonie" just loud enough for his ears to pick it up, and I want him, and I need him, and nothing's stopping me from lifting myself up to meet his lips except... except him. He pins my shoulders to the chair (which is kinda hot) and sputters, "W-what the hell are you doing?! Did you dream of a girl or something??"

What's with everybody snapping at me today? At first, I'm startled- hurt, even- by his reaction, but I glance at our manager still sitting in the driver's seat with his thumbs scurrying across the surface of his phone, and I immediately understand. Jihoon catches my eyes dart to the side and back again, and his expression softens a little. Just a little.

“Ha, sorry, Jihoon,” I say, stifling the giggle that threatens to escape upon the realization of how quickly I could make his cheeks redden.

Following me as I hop out of the car, he calls out to our manager, asking if he's gonna come down or what. The response is a nearly incoherent mutter about how I was the one he was waiting for. Ugh. He tags along behind us, eyes still glued to the screen in his hands.

The car makes a quick noise as it's locked, and the silence that follows is suffocating. The images I'd crafted in my mind earlier flooded in once again. A yawn escapes me, my eyelids still drooping from the weight of half-asleepness. The walk through this stuffy parking lot doesn't get any faster. I'm getting impatient. Instinctively, I reach for Jihoon's hand, but he swats it away. Again, I've forgotten about the presence of a third person. I turn my head to look at my boyfriend. I know that he can feel my gaze on him, but he keeps his straight forward.

The three of us file into the elevator. The ride up remains as silent as it has been since we exited the car in the parking lot. Leaning against the handrail, I lock eyes with Jihoon across from me, but it doesn't last long. He turns away, still avoiding my gaze. Is he mad? Did I annoy him? Oh god! He's mad. He's probably mad. Goddammit, Soonyoung. You never fail to fuck things up.

I look at him again. What would we be doing in this moment if it were only us two in this elevator?

Snap out of it, Soonyoung. Jesus fucking Christ.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I'm ever born again, I want it to be in a time where I could hold hands with Jihoon walking down the street and we wouldn't even be spared a second glance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i luv dialogue <333

 After vigorous practice, really, all I want is a snack.

The kitchen in our dorm is void of any people other than me. Peace and quiet. I mindlessly spread peanut butter onto a piece of toast, interrupted by someone who walks in. I turn around to see him (them?) and am greeted with a sight for sore eyes. Jihoon.

"There you a-" he starts, but I cut him off.

“Are you mad at me?”

His immediate response is a sigh. Is there a word for when you're disappointed even though you knew not to expect anything?

I turn back to the plate of toast, not wanting to hear the words Jihoon's preparing in his head. Just to occupy my hands, I slather more peanut butter on. And more. It's become a gross heap of carbs and butter.

“Soonyoung, you just... you just need to be more careful. Stop risking it. Even now, someone could just walk in while we're talking about this and-” Yeah. Stop risking it. Stop risking launching both of us out of the closet at top speed, demolishing the Pledis building and the hearts of all those who occupy it on our way out. What an image!

I interrupt him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “And what, Jihoon? What's gonna happen?”

“You already know,” he scoffs, almost mockingly.

“Yeah, but is it really that bad? If someone finds out?” There goes the optimistic side of me. Really, though, I already know the answer. And we've gone over this. We've gone over and over and over, even made a backup plan if we're ever... Seen. The credibility, however, is questionable at best. But realistically, the other members aren't the brightest. So I think we're good.

“...Don't be stupid, Soonyoung,” he mutters, taking a seat at the island.

I sigh audibly. He's right. Expecting anything better than total estrangement from the rest of the group is stupid. In this society, with what everyone's been conditioned to think about people like... Jihoon and I, what else could you expect? Other than even worse treatment, which I don't even want to delve into. I'd lose my appetite for this peanut monstrosity in front of me. To perfect the carb-to-butter ratio, I take another piece of toast and slap it on top of the heap. It's at least edible now.

I crane my neck behind me to look at him again. He's slumped in the chair, staring at me blankly as if he's expecting me to say any more. Even with his disgraceful posture and unamused expression, he's as beautiful as ever. I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I'm ever born again, I want it to be in a time where I could hold hands with Jihoon walking down the street and we wouldn't even be spared a second glance.

Taking the plate with me, I plop down into the chair next to him. “I'm sorry,” I say, in such a low voice that it was nearly a whisper.

“Sorry for what?” He asks gently. I take his fingers into my own, just because I missed the touch of them. He lets me do touchy things like this without a word of protest, yet if it were another member, he'd yank his arm away. I have to hold back a grin at the thought.

“For... today. We could've been seen by the manager. I'm sorry, again. I.. I missed you too much, I guess,” I say with a small, apologetic smile.

He leans forward, resting his head upon his arm that lays flush to the table. From this position, he has to look up at me to maintain eye contact. It's... adorable.

“It's alright. Don't worry about it," he assures me, and adds, "I missed you too,” as his lips curl up into his cat-like smile and I think I feel my heart do a backflip.

I know that Jihoon still has trouble voicing anything remotely emotional, especially of this regard. I know that it makes him uncomfortable. He seldom does so without wincing out of embarrassment. So when he builds up the courage to finally get it out of his mouth, I appreciate it much more than I would coming from anybody else. I love that he tries for me.

“No, I mean, earlier, in the car, I saw you in the mirror and.. You looked really good. Like, it was taking me all of my strength to not rip off my seatbelt and climb into the back there with you," I stammer. Maybe I overshared a bit.

He traces along the lengths of my fingers as he giggles, “Hehe, that's cute. How often do I fluster you just by doing nothing?”

I feel blood rush to my head and ignite the tips of my ears. He knows exactly what he does to me. “Shut up,” I say, embarrassed. “Anyway, I hate that we have to be a secret. It's just really frustrating. I hate that things are hard for... people like us.”

“You could just say gay people.” Well, that's Jihoon, alright. Blunt and straight to the point.

“Yeah... I could. I hate that things are hard for us... gay people," I sigh. "And I hate that I can't do anything until we're the only people in the room. Living little scenes in my head isn't enough, y'know? I just wanna be a normal couple with you. Like, going on dates and stuff without having to constantly worry about other people.”

Jihoon's smirk morphs into an expression of exasperation, but not out of disagreement. Of empathy. “God, I know. I hate it, too. Especially considering that we're, like, idols. Can you imagine what'd happen to this godforsaken company if we came out?”

“I wouldn't want to imagine that," I say, shaking my head. I don't want to think of the aftermath of coming out, let alone coming out itself.

If I ever did, would all the other members still like me? Maybe some of them. I can't help but think of Channie, still a kid, barely out of high school. Would he still see me as his trustworthy hyung? Or even as a person? The answer is unclear. But the possibilities are unsettling.

Yet I remind myself of where I am and of Jihoon who sits next to me, and my worries vanish. My troubles disappear. Even though my relationship with him is the root of it all. Still, I run my eyes over his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks, his lips that seem to call out my name, and nothing else seems to matter. In this moment, I'm glad that I'm his.

In the past few minutes, he's likely been as deep in thought as I am. He breaks the silence. “You know, sometimes I wish that I had never become an idol. That they'd just reject my audition and I'd sulk about it for a little bit but move on with my life. I'd have a normal life, at least.”

“Really?” I ask, with genuine surprise. I can't imagine him as anything else, especially considering his wide range of talents that just seem to fit snugly into place in the "idol" occupation.

“Yeah. But then I'd never have met you,” he says, immediately breaking eye contact. Like I said, he tries. And I appreciate it.

But not enough to make fun of him for it. “That's really corny."

“Yeah. I know," he chuckles, sitting up. He leans back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling. The two of us alone in a kitchen, conversing about what's troubling us... It's oddly domestic. As if we're a couple that's been living together for years. And as if we aren't idols who conceal our feelings and sexuality for the sake of the group, just like the makeup noonas conceal every little imperfection on our faces. Because we need to be pristine, for the public. Flawless. And if the public considers this part of who we are to be a flaw, let it be covered up too.

I shake the negative thoughts from my head. With the kitchen lighting both illuminating and casting shadows upon Jihoon's soft features, I'm in awe of how good he looks just... sitting there. I probably look like a fool staring at him all the time, but how could I not be? He's a great distraction from the thoughts that trouble me.

"Jihoon," I say, just to get his attention. At the mention of his name, he lowers his head after facing the ceiling all this time (doesn't his neck hurt?) and raises his eyebrows.

This is one of those moments in which I want the conversation to continue, but don't really have a topic to bring up. Just to hear the other person's voice. This happens to me often, actually, as someone who thinks so much but says too little of his actual thoughts. And that's saying something, because I talk a lot. But maybe, I don't want more conversation. Just more attention. (Which is typical of me. I'm clingier than a piece of velcro.)

And this... This seems like a good time to kiss him. When is it not, really?

Well, around other people. Duh, Soonyoung. But anyways, kissing. Kissing is a good idea.

I begin to lean in. "I'm ... mmwanna kiss you," I mumble, as my eyes flutter closed. Evidently, I don't really care about how stupid I sound right now.

At first, I can feel him reciprocate the motion, and then stop midway and stiffen up. “Wait, stop," he starts, and before he continues talking, I can already feel tears welling up in my eyes. I knew it. I knew he'd do this. "Someone could walk in and- wait, Soonyoung!”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears, frustration, and inner conflict pose a question: Is it really worth it to continue like this? Soonyoung doesn't need to look any further for the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you were waiting for an update and are confused, i put the original chapter 2 into chapter 1, just to create some balance lol

I rose from my seat and left the room before he could finish explaining himself. I don't need to hear it. I already know. I already know what he would say. That someone would walk in and catch us in the act. Instead of us coming out of the closet, its door would be yanked open. But why am I upset? He's right. It's not like the kitchen is a private place, safe from anybody entering.

I'm just stupid for expecting it to be okay. He's right! He's always right. He's Lee Jihoon, genius of the group, for God's sake. I should just be more careful, right? Never even glancing at my boyfriend, because “someone could see”? What a relationship that would be.

Through my vision blurred with tears, I can still make out the vague shapes of the dorm. I fumble with the doorknob of the bathroom with my right hand, and messily swipe the wetness from my face with my left. Standing in front of the sink, I look at the reflection in the mirror. Look at your dumb face, Soonyoung! Your naivety's gotten the best of you. He cares more for his reputation than for you, and look at you. You fell in love too fast.

Wait, am I in love with him?

I shake my head. Stop thinking about him, Soonyoung. This is exactly what I mean! All you ever think about is him. Jihoon Jihoon Jihoon, all day. Let it go for _one_ second, would ya? Just think about it. He's why you're so upset right now! The effort of hiding this relationship is exactly what's burdening you!

It seems that there's a war raging inside of my head. I want to love him. I want to stay being his, and for him to stay being mine. And I want to declare my feelings, and to scream them from the rooftops until my voice is no more. But I know that it's impossible, and that this relationship is causing me more frustration than satisfaction.

I wish I didn't have to hide how I feel.

At that thought, the tears flow even more, as if a stopper was pulled out of the glands. I let my frustration overcome my body as my shoulders rack in time with my sobs. I begin to hyperventilate, and my chest rises up and down in an unstable, syncopated rhythm. I just want to scream. I don't want to care about what everybody else thinks of me, but I _have_ to. I'm an _idol._ The biggest part of the job is biting your tongue. Being a different person in front of the cameras and the fans. That's what it's all about.

Dammit, Soonyoung.

I glance up after staring into the sink drain all this time. My crying face is hideous. Would those countless fansites still chase after me with their cannon-like cameras if I showed up at a schedule looking like this?

Just to up the miserable factor, I climb into the bathtub and pull the curtain. I sink down onto the floor of the tub, and thankfully, it's dry. I curl up against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. Sporadically, tears roll down my cheeks and onto my clothes, leaving little wet spots. It's uncomfortable.

And I hear the door swing open, followed by a voice.

“Soonyoung?”

It's Jihoon.

“Y-Yeah?” I respond, trying my best to sound stable, as if I hadn't spent the last eternity crying like a baby.

He hurriedly apologizes, with such an urgent tone that you'd think I'm on my deathbed. “I'm sorry! I wasn't even-”

I cut him off again. How many times have I done that today? “It's ok. Me too. I'm sorry for running out on you like that. I'm just really tired of having to stop myself, y'know?”

Once he realizes where my voice is coming from, he grabs onto the curtain and pulls it aside. I look up at him, probably with the dumbest look on my face, as he stammers with utmost concern, “Oh fuck, are you crying? Oh, God. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, baby.”

“I'm okay, I'm fine. Don't worry. Just fucking come here and kiss me already,” I say, outstretching my arms, offering him something to hold onto as he enters the tub one leg at a time.

He kneels in front of me, my two legs on either side of him. I rest my arms on his shoulders, and as I feel his lips press against mine, it feels like there are fireworks being ignited inside of me. My heartbeat accelerates as I melt under his touch. He's kissed me countless times, and he could do it a million more. It'd still be as exhilarating as the first, every time.

For a few seconds, he breaks contact, and I'm left staring up at him. He takes a moment to hold the ends of his long sleeves in his hands. What were they called again? Sweater paws? I'd say that, but he's not wearing a sweater. Anyways, I focus my attention back on him, and he leans in again, but this time to gently pat dry the shiny trails of tears on my cheeks with his “long-sleeve shirt paws”. Once he's satisfied, he gives me a small, apologetic smile, and leans in to attach our lips again.

Sure, I wish I could announce our relationship to the whole universe. I'd be lying if I said I've never considered taking a megaphone with me on the rooftop of the Pledis building, or blurting it out in front of everyone on a V app stream. But moments like this, when he's alone with me and I have the freedom to fulfill the scenes I make up in my head, make the effort of hiding it all worth it.

“I love you,” I murmur during one of the split-seconds in which we part to take a breath. He pulls away, still gripping both of my shoulders, and grins out of pleasant surprise.

And then, he pulls me into an innocent hug. Can't say I expected that. As I wrap my arms around his torso, he says into my ear, “I love you too, Soonyoung. So much. I wish I could scream that into a mic onstage, or like, tattoo it on my forehead. I LOVE SOONYOUNG, all in big, red lettering. Just wanna let everyone know.”

I smile and squeeze him tighter, taking in a deep breath of his scent. He pulls away, and even with the curtain blocking out most of the light, I can tell that his cheeks are warm and flushing red. “You're so _cute,_ ” I say, grabbing hold of his two hands.

I've got him even more embarrassed. He looks down shyly, changing the topic. “Hey, are you ever gonna eat that peanut butter... thing?”

Chuckling just because he had that on his mind, I shake my head and say, “Nah. Seungcheol will probably walk in and eat it like it was made for him.”

We cackle at the thought of it, and he doubles over in laughter. Another one of those moments where after we both decide it's not funny anymore and stop laughing, one of us merely has to give the other a glance to trigger another laughing fit. Finally, we both calm down after sporadic giggles, and he's ended up in between my legs again, practically laying on top of me. I have both of my arms wrapped around him with his head comfortably resting on my chest. We lay together in silence.

I could die like this, I think. It's peaceful. Blissful, even. But I remember something crucial, and am awoken from my trance.

“Say,” I start to ask, craning my neck to look at him, “Did you lock the door?”

He meets my eyes and grins even wider, if that's even possible. “No. Who cares if someone walks in?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst with a fluffy happy ending is the best of both worlds!! i liked writing this hehe soonhoon is too cute of a ship for me not to have it as my first ever thingy on here! tell me what ship i should write about next


End file.
